Tempting the Ringmaster (A Big Top Romance)

by Aleah Barley

  She wondered what he’d say about her struggling to find a place for the troop to spend the winter. It had been less than a year, and already his life’s work was falling apart.

  “You must have loved him very much,” Graham said.

  “We fought like cats and dogs.” Their last fight had taken place on the night she’d left the circus, walking away from the lot they’d set up in Chicago with only the vague promise of an apprenticeship at a friend’s tattoo parlor. The pay had been crap and the benefits had been non-existent, but that didn’t matter, not when it meant escaping from the circus life with all of its prying eyes.

  Watching her pack her bags, Barnaby had been so damn angry. He’d roared and stomping around like some kind of crazed animal. She’d seen him a few times since—any time the circus traveled within a day’s drive of Chicago—but there’d always been something missing; the fire in his eyes when they worked together on a new bit or helped train a fresh performer.

  “We wanted different things.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, Barnaby always wanted to be P.T. Barnum. He was just born 200 years too late.”

  “What about you?” Graham asked, looking her straight on. His silver blue eyes held an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. “What did you want?”

  She’d wanted a home, a man who loved her, and a family that she could depend on. She sighed. Those were fantasies she’d dreamed up when she was young. Now she wanted practical things; a few extra dollars in her pocket for a rainy day, the safety of the circus, and a place for her people to spend the winter.

  “Nothing important.”

  Their food hit the table with a thud. There was a burger so big she’d need to eat it with a knife and fork, dripping with sautéed mushrooms, onions, and blue cheese settled in next to a basket full of fresh cut French fries. Two glasses of beer quickly followed.

  “Thanks, Theresa,” Graham said.

  “You need anything else, just let me know.” The waitress’s mouth pulled back into a wide grin, showing off purple and green braces. “Are you taking anyone to the Winter Social?”

  Belle blinked in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

  The girl couldn’t be more than sixteen. Graham might be the sexiest thing on two legs—Buck Falls answer to Romeo, Don Juan, and Channing Tatum—but some things were just too absurd for words.

  It was just supposed to be one drink, but that didn’t mean Belle was going to let some teenage bar-maid completely ignore her. She leaned forward, allowing the front of her ruby dress to gape open as she placed a hand possessively on Graham’s wrist.

  “Sugar,” she purred, turning up the charm, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but go play with someone your own age. This one’s taken.”

  “Right. Of course.” The girl rummaged through the pockets of her apron until she found her order pad. “What’s your name?”

  “Belle-Anne Black.”

  “Belle-Anne.” Her brow furrowed. “How’s that spelled?”

  Un-freaking-believable. Belle’s gaze met Graham’s questioningly. What the heck was going on? Why did the girl want to know her name?

  He didn’t bother explaining. Instead, his lips twitched up into a knowing smile. He leaned forward, getting into the act by smoothing a single dark curl back behind her ear. The heat of his fingertips against her cheek was enough to light fires across her entire body. His hand drifted down slightly, the rough calluses on his thumb scraping across her bare collarbone before he settled back in his seat.

  Hoo-boy. Belle swallowed hard, struggling to remember what was going on. Right. Her name. She spelled out each letter of her first name slowly. “The last name’s Black, the same color as my panties. You need me to spell that for you too?”

  “No.” The waitress’s cheeks flushed a bright pink. She grinned. “I gotta go. I need to call my sister.” She jammed the paper back into her apron and hustled back towards the kitchen.

  Belle’s shoulders slammed against the back of the booth as she straightened. “What the hell was that about?”

  “Theresa thinks she’s got the inside scoop on who I’m taking to the Winter Social,” Graham explained, his face breaking out into a wolfish grin. “Last time I checked, the betting pool was at seventy-five dollars.”

  “They bet on your love life?”

  “There’s not a lot to do around here in the winter. People have to find their entertainment somehow. It’s a pain in the ass—hard to find a girlfriend when everybody’s in your business—but its all part of living in a small town.” He grinned. “I haven’t taken anyone to the Social in years. Otherwise, the pool would be closer to a thousand dollars. That’s how much you get if you can guess who my father’s taking.”

  “Of course.” Belle came from a long line of circus performers, but Graham was clearly descended from small town heart-throbs.

  For the next 30 minutes or so, they concentrated on the food in front of them. It was great; the burgers were juicy and delicious; the beers were cold and fresh from the tap.

  The company wasn’t bad either. Graham Tyler wasn’t just steaming hot, he was also smart, insightful, and funny. He made her laugh, in a way, that she’d almost forgotten was possible; the easy peals of a woman who had nothing to guard against and nothing to prove.

  He wasn’t her type. She didn’t date town-boys—she hadn’t since she was eighteen years old—but this wasn’t dating. The circus was going to leave town on Monday, which made this a limited term engagement, and she couldn’t get enough.

  When dinner was finished, they headed back out into the dark parking lot. Graham’s hands were reaching for her before they even got to the car.

  “Damn.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “You taste so sweet.”

  “Like beer and blood?”

  “Like sugar and spice and everything nice.” His kiss deepened as his hands clutched at her waist. “I’ve been imagining this all night, ever since I saw you standing there in this dress.”

  His fingers curled in the silky red fabric, and he pushed her back against the hard metal hood of a classic Ford truck. His lips were rough against her mouth, and she didn’t care. All night long he’d been a perfect gentleman, but the truth was she’d been dreaming about this moment ever since he’d asked her out. She’d been fantasizing about his mouth on hers, his hands grasping at her breasts, and his erection hard against her thigh through so many layers of fabric.

  He was a cop, she tried to remind herself, a hometown hero with a badge and an attitude.

  Only, he didn’t look like a policeman with the dark bruise under his eye.

  He looked like a highwayman, ready to pillage, plunder, and take whatever he wanted.

  Even her.

  He palmed her breast and lowered his mouth to taste her delicate flesh. The sensation of his teeth on her skin was enough to set her writhing. They should have skipped the drink. He boosted her up on the hood of the strange vehicle, allowing his free hand to find a place between her thighs, not touching or thrusting, just holding her in place and teasing her with the heat of his body as his mouth moved back up to her lips.

  Bring. Briiing. The ring of a cell phone interrupted the quiet night, shocking them apart. Was there someone else in the parking lot? Briing. Graham’s hands patted awkwardly at his pockets until he found his phone.

  “You have to take that?” Belle demanded, lust still coursing through her veins.

  “It’s a transfer from the emergency switchboard. Someone called 9-1-1.” He hit the talk button. “Chief Tyler speaking.”

  Belle couldn’t make out the words coming through the phone’s small speakers, but she recognized the harried tone. The person on the other end was hysterical.

  “Marta,” Graham said. “Marta, calm down.” His gaze ghosted over Belle’s body before he turned away to concentrate on what was being said. “Can you repeat that?”

  Belle took a deep breath and attempted to force down her bubbling libido
. She slipped off the hood of the truck, smoothed her dress, and buttoned her coat.

  It was time for the fantasy to end. She wasn’t Cinderella, and he wasn’t Prince Charming. He was a cop, brash, invasive, and controlling; everything she didn’t want hanging around the circus.

  It would never work between the two of them.

  They came from two different worlds.

  Her movement must have caught Graham’s attention because he turned back towards her. There was an expression on his face somewhere between shock and awe, like he’d just been hit by a truck.

  “Just hang tight,” he said, “I’ll be there as soon as possible.” He hit the end button on his phone. “Hell.”

  “I guess that mean’s our evenings over.” Belle crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Can you drop me off at the fairgrounds on the way? Or, should I call someone from the circus to pick me up?”

  “I think you’d better come with me. It’s…“ Graham shook his head ruefully. “I don’t even know how to say this. That was Marta Sanchez. My next-door neighbor—your next door neighbor while you’re at the fairgrounds—the woman’s 90 if she’s a day, but she’s still sharp as a tack. She doesn’t make things up.” There was a slight pause. “She says there’s an elephant tearing up her rose beds. An elephant! I had her repeat herself three times. She says it’s definitely an elephant.”

  “Oh,” Belle said, her mind scrambling. There weren’t any elephants in Black Shadows Circus, but the beast’s presence couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it? “Hell.”

  Chapter Four

  The thing sniffing at Marta’s flower garden had big ears, gray skin, and a long trunk. It was definitely an elephant.

  Graham parked in the middle of the road and got out of his car. He jogged around to the trunk to grab his .45 then tugged on his bulletproof vest. The Kevlar probably wouldn’t be much protection against an elephant, but it was all he had.

  “Hold on a second, Rambo.” Belle opened her door and got out slowly. The hem of her red dress whipped against her knees. She shivered in the cool night air, pulling her ugly jacket tight around her body as she watched the elephant. “It doesn’t look dangerous.”

  The door to a nearby farmhouse opened and Marta stomped out. The woman had been at least a million years old when he was in Sunday school, and she’d only gotten older since. Her pink sweater set hung loosely across her hunched shoulders, and she had to lean on a cane to support herself.

  “Don’t you dare wave that gun around here, young man. I won’t have any violence on my property. You fire that gun, and I’ll put you over my knee. Don’t think I can’t.”

  Graham’s jaw dropped. Women. They were insane. Sexy, he conceded as he watched Belle walk slowly across the yard.

  So damn sexy.

  The memory of their kiss flooded his senses. The way the sweet scent of cinnamon had clung to her hair, and the way her body had felt, pert and perky, underneath his hands.

  He’d only meant it to be a soft kiss—a thank you for a fun night out—but then she’d been kissing him back, and he’d wanted her so much.

  So, yeah. Women were sexy… and spunky… and psychotic.

  It was a freaking elephant, and they were defending it.

  “That’s close enough,” he called out when Belle was twenty feet from the animal.

  She ignored him and kept walking.

  “That’s—“ Hell. He slipped his gun into the waistband of his jeans and hustled forward to catch up with her. “I told you to stay put.”

  Bringing her had clearly been a bad idea. Just because she was in the circus didn’t make her an expert on elephants. The woman was going to get herself killed.

  If anything happened to her… Graham’s breath caught in his throat. He’d spent less than half a dozen hours with Belle—they were practically strangers—but he still cared about her safety.

  He grabbed her wrist, pulling her hard against his body. “Don’t get any closer.”

  The elephant’s ears flickered slightly at the noise. It turned slightly, flicking its trunk forward. The rubbery appendage whisked air across Graham’s face, its mouth opening slightly before it turned back to the flowers.

  “Such a sweetheart,” Belle cooed, like the thing was a puppy that had just performed its first trick. “Graham, you’d better start looking for her owner.”

  “Her owner?”

  “Unless you think she walked here from Asia.”

  “She’s a girl? How the heck do you know?”

  “No tusks. Male Asian elephants have tusks. She’s definitely a girl.”

  “Of course.” Marta started the long, slow walk from her front stoop to where Graham was standing. “That explains why she’s so interested in my flowers. Do you think she’d like something to eat?”

  The old lady whacked Graham’s knees with her cane. Hard.

  “Go get my guest something to eat. There are apples on the counter, and broccoli in the crisper. Hurry, before she goes after my azaleas.”

  “I’m sure she’d prefer the apples,” Belle reassured.

  “You heard the lady,” Marta said. She poked Graham in the side, sneaking the end of her cane under the side of his Kevlar vest. “Get my guest some apples.”

  That was it. Graham was going to take Marta’s cane away. He turned to give the old lady a piece of his mind and—

  The elephant trumpeted. The sound was enormous, like an antique battle horn. She rumbled forward slowly, nosing past Graham until she was standing between him and the women.

  Marta reached out and poked the elephant with her cane, grinning wildly when the beast lowered its head.

  “You see that, boy? At least someone around here knows how to behave.”

  “Okay.” Belle edged forward, reaching out with one hand to pat the elephant on the trunk. “It’s going to be okay. You got a name, darling?”

  The elephant yawned.

  “How about Tiny?”

  “What kind of name is Tiny for a lady?” Marta demanded. “She needs a name worthy of her… stature. She needs a queen’s name, like Catherine or Elizabeth.”

  “Tiny’s a good name,” Belle countered. “All circus elephants are named Tiny… or Jumbo. She doesn’t look like a Jumbo.”

  “Uh huh.” Marta started grumbling something about idiot children who were no better than they should be. “Who do you think you are anyway?” She demanded loudly. “You just show up here in the middle of the night, claiming to know something about my elephant. You probably want to make her into soup.”

  “I don’t want to make her into soup,” Belle said. “And she’s not your elephant.”

  “She’s on my property, eating my roses.” Marta aimed at the younger woman with her cane. “You’re damn straight, she’s my elephant.”

  Graham grabbed at the weapon before the old woman could connect. “I’m impounding this. No unlicensed weapons in my town.”

  “Hmmph.” Marta dropped the cane. “Boys these days. No respect.” She leaned back against the railing of her front steps. “What’s your name anyway, elephant girl?”

  “Belle-Anne Black. You can call me Belle.”

  “You with a zoo?”

  “Not professionally,” Belle said. “I own the Black Shadow Circus, we’re over at the fairgrounds.”

  “The circus, eh? Does that mean this is one of your elephants? Can’t look after your own livestock?”

  “She’s not one of mine. We don’t have exotic animals. The Black Shadow Circus is about putting on a show, showing off the limits of the human body, not making wild animals dance around on command.”

  Tiny’s ears flicked back and forth, like she was listening to the conversation. The elephant shifted backwards onto her hind legs. For one long moment, it looked like she was about to fall over.

  The last thing Graham wanted to deal with was an unconscious three-ton animal.

  Finally, the beast pushed herself up onto her hind legs. Her entire body wriggled happily in the dim illum
ination from the nearby streetlight.

  Dancing.

  Graham took a deep breath and struggled to remember back to a day without dancing elephants… or clowns. Had it been only yesterday? He wanted to go back there.

  Only, that would mean going back to a time before he’d met Belle.

  He grabbed her arm, pulling her back half a step as Tiny continued to shimmy.

  “Do you know how she got here?” Belle asked Marta.

  “I was having my evening tea.” Marta smacked her lips together at the memory. “Herbal, for my glaucoma. First I knew something was wrong, some semi-truck was barreling down the road. That’s dangerous! There are kids living around here. I walked out to get the license plate number, and that’s when I saw this elephant.”

  “Someone just dumped her off?” Belle’s mouth dropped open in amazement. “Idiots.”

  “Maybe not,” Graham said. “Maybe they knew there was a circus in town. They figured Tiny would wander over towards the fairgrounds and you’d take her in.”

  The elephant appeared to have finished dancing for a moment. She placed her front feet down delicately and glanced around, looking for some sign of approval.

  Up close, she wasn’t as big as he’d imagined—just a little over seven feet tall—but he wouldn’t call her Tiny either. He supposed the name was supposed to be ironic. He reached out tentatively to touch her trunk with his hand. Her skin was rough and cool, like tree bark but smoother. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before, but that was par for the course.

  The whole evening was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

  Picking up Belle at the fairgrounds—seeing the circus performers going about their lives like there was nothing unusual about dressing in spandex or teaching dogs to backflip—taking her out to dinner in his gossip-ridden town, and then there’d been that kiss.

  The kiss had been smoking hot. It had left her moaning, practically begging for more. Another few minutes and he’d have taken her right there in the darkness, not caring who might stumble into the parking lot and see their bodies locked together, writhing with pleasure.